


Aquilae

by Enchantable



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Forbidden Love, Hail Mary move, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Secret Marriage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-03-06 03:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18842782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantable/pseuds/Enchantable
Summary: Alex attacks his father after he hurts Michael and learns the truth--and its cost--a lot sooner.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: could u write something were Alex stayed with michael the night rosa died? happy ending of course!!

He’s going to die.

That’s the only thought he has as the world goes white and hot. This is different from the exorcism or those foster dads who spoke with their belts. Any movement he makes he can feel the sickening sensation of something inside him shifting. He can’t think past the blinding pain. He’s going to die on this floor is his only thought. Every breath he takes brings the world back into focus and the pain gets that much worse. Everything seems to slow down. The last thing he expect to see in the world is the sight of Alex on top of his father. There’s blood, Michael realizes dimly. Blood is everywhere. He realizes that Alex isn’t stopping. His tongue is thick in his mouth but he tries to force the words out.

“‘Lex?” Alex doesn’t stop, “Alex!” He still doesn’t stop. Michael sets his nerves and moves his hand, just a bit. The pain explodes again and he thinks he gasps, but there’s a ringing in his ears and he can feel his throat working. “Alex.”

Alex is there suddenly, crouched with him under the table. Horror is painted all over his beautiful features and Michael can see the fingerprint discoloration from his father’s grip. Michael looks at Alex’s blood splattered knuckles and then back at the limp form of his dad. Dimly he remembers that Alex is the youngest of four. Everyone’s in the military. He also remembers prom and Alex slugging that douche. Alex knows how to throw a punch. He doesn’t look like it right now though. He looks sick. He’s pale and his eye makeup is smudged. He reaches for Michael and then wipes his hands on his pants quickly when he sees the blood on them. His hands hesitate and Michael has to fight the desperate urge to move his own hand.

“My hand,” he chokes out.

“God,” Alex squeezes his eyes shut and then gets up. Michael is mindful of how he turns as Alex grabs a bed sheet and rips a long strip from it. It’s easy to find a board and he comes back over, “I’m going to move your hand onto this,” he says.

“No, don’t—“ Michael starts to protest.

“It’s okay,” Alex says, his voice coming out much stronger, “I’ll be careful.”

Michael looks up at him. Whatever his hand looks like must be horrible, Alex has gone several shades paler. But he smiles reassuringly. Michael looks away and presses his face into his own arm. Alex is so carefully and Michael does his absolute best to muffle the sound he makes as Alex gets his hand onto the board. He wraps the strips of the sheet around it and carefully brings it across his chest. He secures the board and hand to his bare chest and then comes back around. Michael realizes he must be truly in shock because Alex has his hoodie in his hands and gently tugs it over Michael’s shoulders.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says.

“No,” Michael says, “no hospitals.” Alex stares at him. Michael takes a chance and looks down at his hand. His stomach rolls and he’s sick before he can stop himself. Those don’t look like his fingers. Alex looks gutted when he raises his head, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, “I can’t go to the hospital. I need Max.”

“Max?” Alex frowns, “Max Evans?”

“Yes,” Michael grips the front of Kyle’s shirt, “I need Max.”

“I don’t understand. You need the hospital,” he says, “Michael your hand—“ he shakes his head, “we can call Max while we’re on our way there.”

“No, no if I go to the hospital,” he scrambles for the excuse he needs, “they’ll send me back to my foster dad.”

“Then we’ll lie,” Alex says, guiding him to his feet, “you can’t lose your hand.”

“I can’t afford a doctor,” he tries.

“I’ll pay for it,” Alex tells him rashly.

Michael stumbles and realizes they’re outside. Being steered towards the car. Ever step is agony and when he blinks again he’s in the car. Alex is in the drivers seat. He tries to start the engine and Michael bows his head. If he blacks out from the pain, which seems like it’s a real possibility, he’s going to wind up in the hospital. In the hospital means that they will know what he is. He’s not that different, far as he can tell, but he’s different somehow. He curls over his mangled hand which throbs agonizingly. He needs his brother and a gallon of acetone and Alex doesn’t—can’t—know any of that. It’s been told to him time and time again. He fully agrees. Or he has up until this moment. He would sell his soul for Max or acetone right now.

“Alex,” he says, grabbing Alex’s hand, “no hospitals.”

“I don’t understand,” Alex says, “why not? If I don’t take you to a hospital you’re going to be maimed! This is my fault, I’ll make sure you don’t go back into the system. You just need to trust me. I can’t—I can’t have you be maimed because of me.”

“Alex,” he repeats his name, “I can’t go to the hospital.”

“Why not?!”

“I’m an alien.”

Alex whips his head towards him so fast, Michael thinks he might have cracked his neck. Alex stares like he can’t decipher what Michael is saying and Michael doesn’t blame him. He’s never said the words out loud like this. Alex isn’t laughing in his face, which is what he thought it would always be. He’s also not flooring it to the nearest psych ward. Which is also how Michael thought this would go. He’s just staring at him. Probably trying to decide if he’s in shock or not. Michael’s pretty sure that he’s in shock but he is also an alien. He knows what it’s going to do but he has to prove to Alex what he is. So he focuses and uses his abilities to tug Alex’s necklace off and hold it in front of him for as long as he can. It drops into his lap as Michael opens the door and vomits again. When he turns around, Alex is wedged against the drivers side door staring at the necklace in his lap.

“I need Max,” he says, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, “Max and acetone and I’ll answer whatever you want. Just—no hospitals. Please.”

Michael doesn’t try to hide his sob of relief as the car hums to life.

When he opens his eyes again Alex is sliding back into the car. Michael expected them to be in a drugstore but they’re somewhere he doesn’t recognize. Alex digs into the bag and pulls out a bottle. Michael’s eyes widen. They’re usually drinking nail polish remover that has a percentage of Acetone but this is just acetone. He barely remembers he only has one working hand. Then he has to watch Alex take off the plastic wrapping and unscrew the cap. Michael is sure he has questions but his survival instincts kick in and he grabs the bottle, pouring it down his throat. The pain instantly lessens its death grip on him. He lowers the bottle, letting the pain relief coast through his veins. His head clears, just enough for him to look over at meet Alex’s stunned gaze. Alex pulls out his phone and looks from Michael to the information and back again. Michael wants to laugh.

“I’m not trying to off myself with nail polish remover,” he says, “it’s, uh, it’s like a pain reliever,” he explains, “for me.”

“Because you’re an alien,” Alex says.

Michael nods.

“I had sex with an alien,” he says, his voice still dull and distant.

“We prefer the term probing,” Michael says.

“Oh my God,” Alex looks at him with complete horror, “I had sex with an alien who likes terrible puns,” his eyes widen, “I made out with an alien in the ufo emporium,” he grips the steering wheel, “oh my God,” he repeats.

“I appreciate your very valid right to freak out right now,” Michael says, “but is there any way we can get to Max.”

“Oh—oh!” Alex looks at his hand, “yes, hang on,” he starts the car again.

Michael slumps back in the seat, seeing if it helps if he gingerly rests his hand against the board. It doesn’t. He still feels sick and the pain is getting worse, even with the acetone. He can also feel distress coming from his siblings. He has to get to them. He needs Max’s help. He also feels like he needs to be sick again or he might black out.

“Hey, talk to me,” Alex says, breaking through his fog, “Michael, talk to me,” he repeats, “tell me about being an alien.”

Michael laughs.

“Where—“ he shakes his head, “where do I start?”

“Uh,” Alex fumbles, “the beginning. Start at the beginning.”

“I was in a pod,” he starts.

The story is weird to say aloud and in one go. Several times Alex almost gets them into full on accidents. But the story comes out, as cut and dry as Alex can make it. He tells him about the pods, about waking up, about being separated. He tells him as much as he can before they get to where the others are. They aren’t alone. Michael turns to Alex as fast as he can, before Alex gets out of the car.

“Stay here,” he says.

“You have one hand,” Alex points out.

“You gotta stay here,” Michael says, “I don’t know what happened but if you stay here you could—“ he doesn’t know what to say, “you could walk away from this.”

Alex’s eyes darken and he leans forward. Michael swallows at the determination in his eyes. Everything’s gone to shit and is going to go even more in that direction, but looking at Alex’s dark eyes in his smudged makeup, the most coherent thought Michael has is that he loves him. That he would go for his father again and again, how ever many times he had to to keep him safe. But the words tangle in his mouth as he stares at him.

“No,” Alex says and gets out of the car.

Michael scrambles to keep up.

There is so much death.

Michael’s seen one person die because of them but there’s three. And a whole lot of questions where Alex is involved. But Alex is beautiful and defiant and the unwelcome voice of reason as they stage a cover up and Michael lies to protect Isobel. When he does, Alex grips his good hand so tightly Michael thinks that maybe they can get through this. One alien or all the aliens, it doesn’t matter who killed them. Max tries to bring Rosa back and winds up collapsed there, barely able to move. Alex helps them stage the wreck on the condition they put all the girls in the back seat. Let the police run circles around how that happened.

“What about his hand?” Alex asks.

“I can’t,” Max mumbles, “right now. Michael—“

“I’ll be fine for tonight,” Michael assures him. He looks at Alex pleadingly. Alex clenches his jaw, “get him home Iz.”

“Tomorrow,” Max says.

Michael nods. He holds it together right up until the pair of them leave. Then he kind of folds over his arm and tries not to scream. Everything is wrong and the pain in his hand is unbelievable. But Alex wraps his arms around him, whispering nonsense as he helps support his arm and guides him back to the car. They don’t have anywhere to go, Michael realizes. Either of them. Alex doesn’t seem very upset by that and Michael has never had anywhere else to go. Michael directs them to his old spot and directs Alex to setting up the tarp. They crawl under, tucking together in his sleeping bag. The blue paints Alex a different shade of beautiful and Michael stares at him. 

“I wanted to tell you what I was,” he says. Alex looks at him, “before we—“ he trails off.

“Had sex?”

“Kissed,” Michael says.

“Does anyone else know?” Alex asks. Michael shakes his head, “I’m the first person you told?” He nods. Alex looks at him for another moment and shifts closer, “how’s your hand?”

“It hurts,” Michael says honestly, “but I’d do it again.”

Alex dips his head, resting his forehead briefly on Michael’s shoulder. The future before them is dizzying with all of its possibilities. Alex knows and they’ve wound up together anyway. Alex knows and he’s not under the same roof as his abusive dick of a father. The truck’s not ideal, but for the first time it feels like a start and not a life sentence. Michael has no idea if they can figure this out or even what figuring it out might look like. But he presses his cheek to the crown of Alex’s head and like he has since Alex came into his life properly, he closes his eyes and lets himself believe he has a place here. 


	2. Chapter 2

****Alex wakes up to sound of pain.

His eyes snap open and it takes him a moment to place where he is. He’s in the back of Michael’s truck. Michael is pushed against him, his normally hot skin is cool to the touch and even under the tarp, Alex can see how pale he is. Wedged in between them is his mangled hand, still splinted on the board. Alex shoves his fingers against Michael’s neck and finds his pulse is thready and shallow. Michael makes that same sound and turns towards his hand, like he’s seeking the heat. Alex waits only a moment before he lets his fingers skim up Michael’s cheek and push through his curls. Michael arches into the touch before opening his eyes and looking at Alex. He’s in obvious discomfort but Alex is used to seeing him wall himself off in those moments. The trust in his eyes is humbling and terrifying at the same time. Alex has never felt younger or more ill prepared.

“Let’s get you to Max,” he says.

“Can’t move,” Michael mumbles.

“Come on, there’s still acetone in the front,” he tempts.

He has to help Michael ease out of the truck and the moment he does, his legs buckle. Alex grabs his weight as Michael buries his sound of pain in his shirt. God, his father is a monster, in every sense of the word. It goes beyond the blows he’s used to. This hurts in a new and terrifying way. He holds Michael up and presses his lips against his curls and the shell of his ear, wishing he could distract him from the agony racing through him.

“You’re okay,” He says, over and over again, “breathe, you’re okay.”

Michael stops screaming and takes deep, choked gasps of air. Alex feels him start to sag and hefts his weight, steering him to the truck. He gets Michael into the passenger seat and pulls the bottle of acetone out, opening it and pressing it to Michael’s bottom lip. He tilts the bottle back, coaxing acetone down Michael’s throat. He swallows some. Alex doesn’t know how much is too much but after a third of the bottle, he takes it back. Michael makes a noise of protest but Alex holds it away. His gaze is slightly more coherent as he looks at him.

“If this is like morphine, you can’t drink too much,” he says, “we need to get you to Max.”

“Yes, mom,” Michael huffs and Alex shakes his head at his attempt at sarcasm.

They drive to the Evans and Alex looks in the mirror for the first time. It’s not great. Black streaks his cheeks and he can see the flecks of dried blood. He doesn’t know if it’s Michael’s or his father’s. Or Rosa’s. He doesn’t know and it doesn’t matter with Michael half conscious in the seat next to him.  He wipes his cheeks as best he can. Alex has a secret weapon. People may not approve of his lifestyle but they all like him. They take pity on him at the very least. People know the monster his dad is and are willing to turn a blind eye which is sickening, but they also go out of their way to help him. Parents love him, except his own. He focuses on what happened and it’s surprisingly easy to work up tears.

“Alex?” Michael sits up slightly.

“Just get ready,” he says and helps Michael up. They go the front door and Mrs. Evans opens it in her bathrobe.

“Alex? Michael?” Her eyes widen, “what’s going on?”

“I-I’m Sorry,” he says, “we didn’t have anywhere else to go,” he sobs, “c-can we come in?”

“Of course,” she says ushering them inside, “what happened?”

“M-m-my dad.”

Alex sobs his way through the story, leaving out the aliens part. At one point Michael staggers to the bathroom and he wails in a truly alarming way so Max can slip in after him. Isobel presses her fingers to her temple and both her parents go quiet and faded. She jerks her head and he follows her into the bathroom, sparing only a thought for how many times she may have done this. He’s upped the dramatics for his sobbing for the sake of sympathy but there’s nothing fake about the sounds Michael is making as Max cradles his hand. Max has a towel stuffed in Michael’s mouth but also has his forehead shoved against his chest, trying to muffle the sounds he’s making. Max is looking vaguely pale and he turns towards them.

“You have to distract them,” he says, “please, this is bad. I’m gonna blow the power if I try it.”

“What do you mean bad?” Alex demands.

“It’s everywhere,” Max whispers.

It’s infected.

“How long can you hold them there?” Alex asks.

“It’ll be easier to knock them out,” she says.

“Do it,” he tells her.

“Done,” she replies.

He doesn’t bring up the practicality of this. They are so far off practical it’s impossible. Carefully he takes the towel from Michael’s lips and Michael let’s out a horrible wheezing sound. Max grips him tighter and though Alex aches to take him back, he can see the pain in Max’s eyes. He doesn’t know how he ever missed it. Isobel too looks gutted. This is their sibling. Logically he knows that but it’s different seeing such naked truth from them.

“Alex,” Michael mumbles.

“I’m here,” Alex says. Though he wants to hold him equally badly, Max relinquishes his hold so Michael can fall against him. His hand is half healed but he holds it anyway, cradling if between them. The acting about his dad may have been embellished but the tears that break free at the sight of Michael in pain are very very real. Alex ignores them in favor of wrapping an arm around Michael’s shoulders, “come on,” He says, “let’s go.”

“We’ll take my car,” isobel says, “it’s faster and I just filled the tank.”

She climbs into the front seat and they all crowd into the back, wedging Michael in between them. Michael’s head drops to his shoulder, his body weight pressing against him and the feverish boy in his arms becomes the only thing that matters in his world. Michael’s breathing is shallow and his skin is still cool. Alex realizes he never understood how warm Michael is until he isn’t. He meets every distressed sound Michael makes with tightening his hold or kissing his curls. Anything to let Michael know he’s here. Isobel gets them out of town and to the middle of the desert. By that time Michael is slipping and out of consciousness. Max scrambles out of the car and together they go into the desert as Isobel dives under the hood of the car. She runs to catch up to them.

“Give him to me,” Max says.

Alex shifts the weight and Michael’s eyes fly open.

“I’m here,” Alex says, cupping his cheeks. He presses his lips to his, “I’m right here, Max is going to heal you.”

“We don’t want Alex’s heart to stop,” isobel says.

She puts a hand on his shoulder as Max carefully lowers himself down, cupping his hand over Michael’s. He speaks to Michael in a low tone as Isobel grips his shoulder. He hears Michael gasp and Max’s hand begins to glow. Michael’s other one grabs his shirt. They aren’t touching them but Alex feels every hair on the back of his arms stand up as Max yells. There’s a jerk of power that makes him gasp aloud and Isobel tightens her grip on him.  But she keeps her eyes on her brothers. A moment later the electricity is gone and there’s a distinct smell of burning in the air. He and isobel move at the same time, though Michael is already sitting up, steadying Max as he throws up bile onto the sand. Isobel bends down and offers him the nail polish remover, which he gulps down. Max looks at them both gratefully before all three of their attentions shift towards him. Michael and Isobel shift positions and Michael gets up, coming for him warily.

“Are you okay?” He asks cautiously. Alex gapes at him, “right, shit, the healing. I can expl—“

He throws his arms around him, hugging him tighter than he may have ever hugged someone in his life. Michael freezes for only a fraction of a second before he bands his arms around him. Relief that goes bone deep almost makes his knees weak, or maybe that’s just so he can feel Michael being strong and sturdy and warm underneath him. Michael takes a deep breath and Alex wants to be sick with pure relief as he feels him breathing and with his heart beating steadily. And both his hands gripping the back of his shirt. Michael’s okay. Thanks to his brother. Because all three of them are aliens. The thoughts occur but none are enough to make him loosen his grip on him.

“I’m okay,” Michael says, seeming to realize just how much Alex needs to hear the words.

“You’re an alien,” He says, “I can’t believe you’re an alien,” he repeats, “you kissed me in the UFO emporium!”

Isobel laughs loudly and even Max snickers. Michael goes red and pulls back enough to look at him.

“We swore we wouldn’t tell anyone,” he says. Neither stops laughing, “it was the best I could do!” He defends. A warm rush of affection surges through Alex, “sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“I get it,” Alex promises him, looking at the three of them, “thank you for trusting me.”

Michael presses their foreheads together. Max and Isobel stop laughing and he gets the impression that kissing in front of each other is a bit weird between them. It’s fine, he could stand forever with his forehead pressed to Michael’s, holding each other. Unfortunately they still have to deal with everything else. Including the Evans’ and his dad. He tries to commit everything to memory, focusing on the good instead of the feeling of dread.

The drive back is quiet.

He’s not surprised at the car in the Evans’ driveway. Jim Valenti is as good at turning a blind eye as anyone, but Alex knows what he did is assault. He’s underage though. He can make it through time in juvi and if this is more serious, he wouldn’t be the first musician with a record. Michael’s hand tightens on his and Alex looks over at him. He kisses his hand and pulls back to look at them all. This is a good trade, he thinks. For the first time he might understand what his father talks about when he says he’d do anything to protect his family.

“Don’t get out of the car until I’m gone,” he says.

“Wait, no, Alex!”

He gets out and closes the door, muffling everything. He hears the lock click and sees two shapes scramble. He forces himself to look ahead and walk over to Sheriff Valenti. He does it with his head high and his back squared.  He’s not surprised to see something akin to pride in the older man’s eyes. But also regret. Fair trade, he reminds himself.

“Did I kill him?”

“Not quite. He’s gonna be on an all soup diet for a bit though,” he says.

“I should’ve hit harder.”

“Story of my life,” he says, “hands on the car.”

Alex repeats that this is fair like a mantra and envisions himself with Michael in the desert as the cuffs go around his wrist. He ignores the rights being read to him and the sound of the car pulling away. He doesn’t want Michael to see this either. He gets put in the back of the car and the Sheriff pulls away. Alex watches as Roswell goes by.

Then so does the police station.

He knows he’s not supposed to speak except to ask for attorney but Valenti just keeps going, no sirens or anything. His father is a good soldier and Alex has humiliated him. He has no illusions that his father will want revenge. Is he already on his way to that deep hole his father definitely has in mind?

“Where are we going?” He asks, “don’t I have to get booked before I go to jail?”

“Yes,” Jim says, “but first me and some nice gentlemen from the Air Force want to talk to you about another option.”

“What?” Alex demands, “rotting in some dark hole because I pissed off my dad?” Valenti looks at him with a raised eyebrow and Alex does nothing to hide his fury.

“Trust me, we’re only having this conversation because of what you did to your dad. I still think you’re young but we gotta move fast,” he coughs, “for a couple reasons. We want to talk to you about stopping him.”

“What?”

“You ever heard of Project Shepherd?” Sheriff Valenti asks. Alex shakes his head, “well you’re about to. Hope you remember everything they taught you at that museum because it’s about to get blown out of this world.”

Alex stares at the sign that bids them farewell from Roswell as the car turns onto I-40.

He thinks of Michael and that moment.

It’s still a fair trade, no matter what happens next.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s four days until he’s back in Roswell.

Four days.

Because apparently Jim Valenti thinks it’s funny to drive from New Mexico to Nevada with a shell shocked teenager in the back of his car. Three days and Alex is pretty sure that his wrists are never going to be the same. Jim drives him home with the assurance that his dad is still very securely in the hospital. Which Alex realizes is something of a shame since the revelation that his father knew about aliens before he did makes him want to beat the old man again. Or at least get him to talk. Alex has a lot of questions even after three days of explanations from some very high ranking members of the Air Force. Mostly he wants to sleep for the next year. The cruiser pulls up outside his door like this is another one of his attempts at running.

“They’re going to want your answer sooner, rather than later,” Jim explains, “I know you’re exhausted but give it some thought.”

Jim doesn’t know what that word means.

“I will,” Alex says, “thanks for the ride.”

“Hey, kid?” Alex glares, “you did a brave thing defending your friend like that. You could help a lot of people.”

“I’d like to go now,” Alex says.

Jim nods and gets out, letting Alex out of the car.

Alex walks up the driveway to the hide-a-key that his dad somehow thinks is inconspicuous. He doesn’t know how the man is in charge of anything that deals in secrets. But between that and the fact that Michael Guerin is an alien, Alex thinks he’s going to have to reevaluate his definition of what a good liar is. He doesn’t hear Michael coming up behind him. He doesn’t sense him either. It’s only when he’s got the rock in his hand and he’s pulled the key out and fiddles it into the lock that he glances over his shoulder as he always does and sees Michael standing there. His first thought is that Michael looks awful. Like he hasn’t slept in four days either. But there’s something much older in his eyes than Alex saw when he left, undercut by something more raw than Alex thinks he’s seen since Michael admitted he was from another planet.

“Alex?” Michael’s voice is painfully unsure as he hovers at the front step.

“Come on,” Alex says and opens the door.

Michael comes slowly into the house, like he’s scared. Which is understandable. Alex barely wants to be in there himself, even if what happened took place in the tool shed. Nervous energy pours off of Michael in waves as Alex brings them both into the kitchen. He’s lived on a diet of power bars and Gatorade and chips. He’d kill for real food and he knows that Michael never has enough to eat. During his time in the tool shed Alex was constantly ‘forgetting’ food that spoiled quickly there and then avoiding the place until Michael could either waste it or eat it. He has no idea if Michael even likes strawberry yoghurt. Instead he gets out the stuff to make them sandwiches. That seems simple enough. He makes them sandwiches as Michael stands there inching closer to some kind of explosion but Alex waits until they’re done and slides one towards him before taking a bite.

“Are you okay?” Michael demands finally.

“They want me to join the Air Force,” he says.

“What?” Michael stares at him in horror.

“It’s that or I go to jail,” he says, “for assault.”

“Bullshit that was self defense. Isobel can—“ he stops as Alex shakes his head.

“They know,” he says.

Michael drops the sandwich.

Alex doesn’t.

“They want me to join and in return I don’t go to jail. But if I’m there I can keep you safe.”

Michael stares at him. Alex thinks he may have broken him because Michael doesn’t say a word. He just stares. Then again, Alex knows that Michael hates accepting help of any kind. The greatest surprise was when he’d found him in the tool shed at all. Alex gets it. He’s got a roof over his head but there’s not a surface in the house that hasn’t been covered in his blood or used to make him bruise. He can catalogue all of them according to what room they happened in. He doesn’t accept kindness easily either. His independence has always been the most important thing to him because his independence means that he’s not dependent on someone who hurts him like his father does. Giving his life for his country, giving his life to keep other people safe, that he thinks he can live with. Even if it means that other dreams have to die in the process. He takes another bite of his sandwich and wonders if he’s supposed to have tastebuds or if they all got burned off by the cola and Dorito dust.

“It’s a fair trade,” he says.

“No!” The timber of Michael’s voice surprises him, “no you’re supposed to make music. You’re supposed to go and—and do other things. You’re not supposed to go join the military.”

“That wasn’t really going to happen,” Alex says.

“Yeah it was!” Michael replies, “so what if you had to struggle or sleep in your car, you were gonna make it. You’re so good. You can’t just throw all of that away over us,” a determined look comes over his face, “I won’t let you. I’ll turn myself in—“

“What about Max and Isobel?” Alex asks. Michael freezes, “they’ll come for all of you if I don’t do this.”

“No,” Michael repeats shaking his head, “you can’t. We’ll figure something out. There’s gotta be another way,” he looks at him desperately, “Alex.”

“There’s no time,” he says.

The anger on Michael’s face cracks past the desperation and the sadness makes Alex pause. He’s expecting Michael to use his powers, to throw things around. He’s not expecting his eyes to flood with tears. Alex’s stomach drops. Even as he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is the right decision, that this is worth it—that Michael is worth it—the sight of his tears makes the feeling flood back into his limbs and sends him scrambling around the kitchen island to slam into each other again. Both of Michael’s hands clench the back of his shirt and Alex buries his face in Michael’s shoulder. It’s the first time in a very, very long time where showing anything but strength has been allowed. Hasn’t been met with violence. He’s not sure he’s capable of crying genuinely at the moment. He feels wrung out. But Michael’s tears stain the front of his shirt and sink into the black fabric, even though he barely makes a sound. Of course Michael would know how to cry quietly. Alex has the same talent.

“You weren’t supposed to—“ Michael gasps, “I wanted you to be safe.”

“I will be,” Alex says, “I will be and you’ll be safe too.”

Michael chokes out a wordless protest and Alex tightens his grip on him.

“How am I supposed to sleep in my car writing love songs without you?” He says, meaning it as a joke but the question comes out desperate.

They hold each other in the kitchen for a long time. The weight of the past few days seems to cripple him and it’s so impossibly nice to just be held. Alex doesn’t let himself worry about what might happen, what could happen, the fact that his life is about to become everything that he dreaded. The one bright spot is the boy in his arms. Some practical part of him says that he’s being ridiculous. They’re kids. But the rest of him knows deep in his bones that this feeling means something. That Michael means something, even if he can’t quite figure out what that is. He realizes belatedly that more and more of his weight has shifted to Michael and instead of him comforting Michael, it’s Michael whose rubbing circles against his back. Its a foreign feeling but Alex leans into it.

“I gotta shower,” he admits, “stay? I promise my dad’s gonna be in the hospital for a while.”

“Are you sure?” Michael says.

Alex nods and tugs him upstairs.

Having a boy in his room isn’t anything he ever envisioned. He can’t even imagine what the consequences of that would be. His room’s largely composed of hand me downs from his brothers, things they’ve left as they’ve moved on. The stuff that’s him is tucked away, mostly in drawers and—almost ironically—closets. But Michael steps inside and looks at everything like it’s a wonder. Alex is aware that Michael’s probably never had much of a room of his own. But he tries not to treat this any differently. Then again even if he brought a guy friend home there was no way his dad would let him bring him into his room. Michael takes everything in and raises his eyebrows at the handful of posters that line the walls. There are very few musicians here. It’s more scantily clad women.

  
“It bought me time,” Alex says with a shrug and fishes out clean clothes from the drawers.

He showers in scalding water and comes out in sweat pants and a t-shirt to find Michael is perched on the edge of his bed, doing his best to look calm but the nervous energy is back. He jumps up when Alex comes back, fidgeting with his hands before he shoves them into his pockets. Alex has to fight the urge to yawn. Exhaustion is winning against everything else and he wishes that wasn’t the case. He comes over to where Michael is standing, shifting his weight back and forth.

“It’s okay,” he says, needing to say and hear the words, “we’re okay.”

“Your makeup’s gone,” Michael replies.

Alex stares at him. It seems like such an inconsequential thing. But Michael’s fingertips are slow and hesitant when they push his hair off his forehead and trail the corner of his eye. Alex likes wearing makeup. He likes the way it looks and he likes the fuck you to his dad. But he guesses that yeah the only times he’s been around Michael, he’s always had it on. Michael’s healed thumb brushes under his eye and Alex keeps his focused on Michael. Him without makeup seems ridiculous to even slightly compare to Michael and not being human, but the reverence in Michael’s eyes makes him feel oddly vulnerable. He’s not sure which of them moves first but their lips collide with something that carries and alleges the weight of what has happened over the past few days.

Michael’s fingers skim over his ear and down his neck as Alex pulls him closer. Even through all the layers of fabric he’s aware of the burning heat that radiates off Michael. Heat he never thought too much about. Michael pulls back just enough to look at him, a new anxiousness in his eyes that Alex vows to make go away.

“Is this okay? Now that you know I’m an alien?”

“Yes,” Alex says instantly. “Are you okay that my dad broke your hand?”

“I had you there to protect me,” Michael says and brushes his healed thumb across Alex’s bottom lip as if to remind him.

Alex nips the pad of it with his teeth and Michael drags him back for another hungry kiss. They shift and step until they wind up on the bed, Michael’s legs wrapped around his hip as he pushes his shirt up just enough to touch the skin underneath. Michael tilts his head back and catches his lip between his teeth as Alex skims down his stomach.

“You’re hot,” he says.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Michael deadpans back, “body temperature’s higher.”

Alex has a billion more questions about everything, but Michael is there and in his bed and it’s hard to care about anything else. Especially when it’s coupled with the exhaustion. Michael tugs him down and rolls them so they’re facing each other and wraps his arms around him. His leg doesn’t leave Alex’s hip and Alex is glad. He’s never really adored his bed the way that some people do but this

“Five minutes,” he says against Michael’s collar bone.

Michael kisses the top of his head.

Five minutes, he tells himself and drifts off in the arms of the boy he might love.


	4. Chapter 4

“Well where are you going to go?” Alex demands.

“What do you care? You’re going across the world. You think your dad’s going to let us stay in touch?”

Alex reels at the demand. He knows the answer, of course he knows the answer. He’s one misstep from being thrown back. Jim Valenti is doing everything to get him set up but he’s dying, apparently. And Alex is scared as hell because his father is awake. He doesn’t put it past him to do something bad, something devious and Alex knows he’s woefully outmatched. At least for now. Michael is on thin ice as well. He’ll be vulnerable when Alex leaves, even more vulnerable than he is at the moment. All the while the countdown to him leaving for Basic gets lower and lower. They’re on borrowed time, in a house that he’s always considered a prison and the heat makes it easy to imagine outside is hell. All he wants to do is crawl in bed with Michael but what’s happening is pushing them away from each other in every sense of the word.

“That’s not fair,” Alex says.

“Newslfash, Alex, life isn’t fair,” Michael snaps.

“You think I don’t know that?!” Alex demands, his own voice echoing with anger.

Michael looks away and Alex fights the burn in his throat. Michael’s had this secret for so, so long. Alex doesn’t know how he’s carried it. Alex has known Michael is an alien for a few weeks and his entire life has been changed because of it. Any part of him that wants to be upset at Michael for not telling him has shifted to suddenly wanting to forget. To get to be a kid again. Being a kid is supposed to mean having hope for the future and Alex has never had much of that. Or of innocence. But whatever shred he had is on the ground being pulverized. And it’s currently being stepped on and ground into a fine dust.

Michael is scared.

Alex knows that and somehow the argument that he’s just as scared falls flat in the scheme of things. They’re both scared kids. Maybe the difference is that Michael has never had a choice in this secret. It is just what he is. Alex wishes he didn’t have a frame of reference for that. But it’s a 50-50 chance if his dad attacked Michael because he was an alien or just because he was a guy touching his son. And the fact that he can’t honestly say either way says everything about the situation.

“You shouldn’t be paying the price for my secrets,” Michael says finally.

“It’s not just your secret,” Alex reminds him.

It’s the same argument they’ve had time and time again. Alex tugs on his hair in frustration and tries not to be sick at the realization that his days of having hair are severely limited. His head will be shaved soon. Whatever autonomy he’s wrestled for himself will be gone for a long, long time. Longer than if he had joined just because. It’s not just the Air Force he belongs to anymore. It’s Project Shepherd as well. He’ll belong to them for as long as it takes to keep the aliens safe. It’s a lifelong commitment. Alex is barley eighteen. He knows that’s not something he’s ready for.

“You should have a life,” Michael says.

“So should you,” Alex objects. Michael scoffs, “you should. You deserve a life as much as I do.”

“I’m an alien,” Michael reminds him.

“You didn’t ask to be,” Alex shoots back, “you just are. This is just my life now.”

The last part comes out and Michael’s features twist. Spending so much time with Michael, it’s truly incredible how easily and often he cries. His emotions are so skin deep. Meanwhile Alex has learned to be stoic and straight faced, no matter what happens. His emotions are there, but he’s learned to not let them show. Or he had, anyways. Now around Michael they seem to come to the surface much more easily and no-one seems more surprised than the alien in front of him. Alex doesn’t think he’s feeling anything stronger than normal, it’s just showing more. Maybe that’s just what trust is.

“So we’re bound together for life because of my stupid secret,” Michael says bitterly.

“And my homophobic father,” Alex adds.

“Those are great reasons,” Michael says sarcastically, “I’m sure this is exactly what you wanted.”

Alex lets out a harsh laugh.

  
“Honestly I thought any commitments I made because of my homophobic father would be marriage to a woman.”

It was a fear he had always had, that one day he would be pushed too far and he would break and give in. That being a part of his family would override who he was. He wouldn’t be the first Manes man to do it, probably wouldn’t be the last either. Their family was written in the ink of personal sacrifice for country, faith and family. Alex had always been scared he would wind up being bound to someone he didn’t love and starting the cycle all over again. He’s not sure he could ever forgive himself for doing something like that. Especially not to another person.

“Maybe that’d be easier,” Michael says.

“Would you stop lashing out?” Alex demands, unwilling to hear his fears be belittled like this, “I’m scared too but I’m doing this. I can’t also prove to you that I’m here. That I’m doing this willingly. I can’t do that too. If I don’t have your trust by now then I’m never going to have it.”

He doesn’t mean for the words to come out so desperate. But he doesn’t know what else to do. Desperate is how he feels. These are his last few weeks of autonomy and he doesn’t want to spend them begging. His own eyes burn with the same emotions reflected in Michael’s. One again, he helplessly thinks they’re too young for this. Standing in his father’s kitchen wishing for an adult is a familiar thing to him, but it still hurts. Every time. They’re on their own though. That much is very clear. He just doesn’t want to be alone in this.

“Alex, Alex!” Michael’s hands grasp his shoulders, “I’m sorry,” he says, “you have it, okay? You know you do. I’m just—“ he swallows, “I’m scared.”

“I’m scared too,” Alex says, “don’t say I don’t have to do this,” he adds, “I do. I’m just scared.” Michael swallows and nods. But he doesn’t tell Alex no. Emboldened, Alex keeps going. “I need your support,” he admits, “I need you.”

“Okay,” Michael says, his voice soft before he clears his throat, “okay. You have it. Got it? I’m with you. I just want something better for you.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Alex says honestly and Michael opens his mouth, “you are. This doesn’t change that.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Michael says, “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

“No pressure, right?” Alex says.

Michael gives a shaky smile as Alex relaxes into the deadpanned snark. It feels like they’ve averted a crisis, but they’re still not on solid ground. Maybe that’s too much to ask for. The theme of the past several weeks seems to have been that very fact. The universe does really seem to be against them. Everything gets thwarted or blocked, turned on it’s head. The only solid thing that either of them seems to have is that they are not alone. And even that feels as if it’s about to change.

“I think I can,” Alex says abruptly.

“What?”

“Prove it,” he says.

“Alex,” Michael shakes his head and drops his hands.

Alex licks his lip, suddenly nervous and twists the ring on his thumb. Michael’s annoyance turns to something else as he stares down at the ring. His throat works as he looks from the ring to Alex and then back again. Michael’s always been so, so smart. Of course he sees what’s going on. Even before Alex has the words he wants.

Michael doesn’t say no.

He doesn’t push back, he just stares and stares. And finally Alex slips the ring off his thumb. He looks at Michael, as serious as he has ever been. More serious, maybe. Alex has always been a rebel at heart and this is the biggest rebellion he can think of. He holds the ring out to Michael.

“We’re in this together, right? No matter what happens. So,” he puts the ring in Michael’s hand, “let’s be in it together. On our own terms.”

“Roswell doesn’t even recognize same sex marriage,” Michael starts.

“Massachusetts does,” Alex reminds him, “if we get married there, they’ll recognize it here.”

“You want to marry me?” Michael repeats.

“I want us to be together on our terms,” Alex says.

“Okay.”

“I know we’re rushing into this but—“

“I said okay!” Michael cuts him off and Alex finally hears him, even as he watches Michael cram the ring onto his finger, “okay. Let’s get married. Screw the universe. How do we get to Massachusetts?”

Something in Alex’s chest seems to unravel, like a knot coming undone. For someone who decided to propose a few moments ago, the relief he feels at Michael saying yes and smiling afterwards is mind blowing. Well, he said okay. Michael goes to get the laptop and Alex sinks into the stool. Of all the mind rocking, earth shattering things that have happened, this is by far the simplest. The easiest. Nothing feels like it’s ended. Instead, for the first time, it feels like something’s beginning.

“I think bus is gonna be cheapest, but plane’s gonna be fastest,” Michael says, setting the laptop in front of him and dropping onto the neighboring stool, hooking his foot around Alex’s and dragging him closer, “what do you think?”

“Let’s fly.”


	5. Chapter 5

For a moment everyone is quiet. 

“Are you sure?” Isobel asks. 

“Didn’t you always say I was gonna build a family one day?” Michael questions.

“Yes, but—“

“But?” He says. 

“But you’re eighteen. You can put all of this behind you,” Isobel says, “you have a blank slate.”

“I don’t want a blank slate,” Michael says, “I want my family.”

Both of them trade a look and Michael gets it. But he doesn’t like it. In his gut he knows they have a point but he and logic have a complicated relationship. Alex is being pushed off to the military though. He knows their secret. The more Michael thinks about it the more he realizes that even if everything hadn’t unfolded that way, it was probably only a matter of time before he told him. Maybe before they were sitting around having this conversation. Everyone knew that this would be a hard one to have. They haven’t exactly told the Evans’ everything, though if all three of them had been adopted maybe they would have. He doesn’t know. It’s all a jumble in his head. He just knows he wants to marry Alex before he’s forced to say goodbye to him for God knows how long. They’re a country in a very normal, very human kind of war. 

“How are you going to do it?” Max asks. 

Speaking of very normal, very human kinds of war. 

“We want to go to Massachusetts,” Michael says. They trade a look of confusion that has nothing to do with him wanting to get married, “we can have it recognized here,” he says, “if we do it there.”

“Do you want to stay here?” Isobel asks. 

Michael looks down. He doesn’t but they have to.  It’s only a matter of time before Jesse gets out of the hospital. And despite what they are about to do, they’re little more than kids. Alex has potential, according to Valenti. He’s still got to prove himself. He’s got to earn his place and being the son of Jesse Manes, that’s not going to be an easy road. Michael’s never had a parent he had to prove himself to be better than, but he know Alex can pull this off. He’s got no doubt about it. That still requires going to war. That still requires doing a lot of stuff. It’s a long game, as they would say in those old movies. Which is fine, because he has every intention of doing what it takes to spend his life married to Alex. 

“I think we gotta,” he says, “we don’t want anyone to know.”

“You don’t want to tell anyone?” Isobel asks. Michael shakes his head, “but—“

“It might be better that way,” Max says quietly. 

“How could you say that?!” Isobel questions, “don’t we have enough secrets?” She looks at Michael, “Michael.”

“If Alex’s dad finds out he’ll kill both of us,” Michael says, “and if the rest of the town finds out,” he pauses and shrugs, “it’s not gonna be good.”

Michael structures his life around not being looked at twice. No-one should wonder where he spends his nights or where his legal guardian is or why he does everything in his power not to get upset. He needs to be ignored by the system, not fed into it. Sure people are better now but they aren’t great. People have never been great. They’ll stare and if they start to pull on one threat, who knows where that will lead them to. Following the threads to his biggest secret has been Michael’s greatest fear his entire life. Being abandoned is better than being put in a lab somewhere and experimented on. Worse, following that thread might lead them to Max and Isobel and if they wind up in a lab somewhere, his world really will be over. He looks as they do that twin thing. He’s always been envious of their ability to connect silently, not that he would ever admit it. Keeping Isobel safe and ignorant was the price for that and he paid it. 

What surprises him is that he doesn’t ache for the connection with either of them.

He kind of just wants Alex.

The vicious longing catches him off guard. It’s almost nauseating all things considered. Maybe it’s some kind of alien thing. Or maybe it’s alarmingly human. Either way what wants is clear almost on a primal level. Michael does his best not to think about the future racing towards him. The one where he will want Alex and Alex will not be there. That, right now, is not important. It’s almost ironic considering that Alex is the live in the moment kind of guy while he, well, he’d give fucking anything to be able to plan one day in advance. 

“I gotta go,” Michael says abruptly, “I gotta—“ he waves his hand, “away we’re siblings so I wanted you to know.”

Isobel opens her mouth but Max catches his eye and gives a nod that has the gravity only Max seems capable of evoking. 

“We’ll be there,” he says. 

“Absolutely,” Isobel says and then goes back to trying to summon him telepathically.

Michael feels momentarily grateful that the news of his impending nuptials is enough to override their twin shit but the longing is also vicious. He shoves his hands into his pockets and makes his way on foot to Alex’s house. It’s a walk he’s done before, a hell of a lot of times. Well, not to Alex’s house directly but like in the general vicinity. Because Alex spends a lot of his time just outside his house and sometimes Michael lingers just in case he can see him. Not in a creepy way just in a making sure he’s okay kind of way. He wishes he could say it’s weird to walk in the front door, but Michael’s an expert on walking into homes you don’t belong in but desperately wish you did. 

“Alex?” He calls, following the path up to Alex’s room. It’s clean and tidy because Alex looks like a goth but everything is ordered. His father won’t allow anything else. Michael looks at his military bed corners and tries not to think about how that’s going to be his life soon, “Alex?” He tries again, listening for any indication of him. 

“Michael!” 

Michael whips around as Alex freezes. For a moment he wants to ask what the hell is going on but then he realizes the answer pretty damn quick. Alex showers because duh. Everyone showers. But seeing him standing there in a bathrobe with his hair askew and his face bare makes Michael freeze as well. For a moment they both just stare at each other. It’s hard to say who is more vulnerable. Michael doesn’t try to one up when it comes to battle scars. He and Alex are equally fucked by life. Both equally love their armor. It’s tense and vulnerable at the same time. 

“I haven’t seen you without your septum piercing since ninth grade,” Michael blurts out. 

“Oh, yeah,” Alex says, “I uh thought I should get used to it being out.”

Michael swallows painfully around the lump in his throat at the knowledge of what Alex is sacrificing. Alex tries to smile and shifts his weight, almost nervously. 

“Does it feel weird?” Michael asks. Alex shrugs, “you could get it redone when you get out.” 

“I’ll be an old man with a nose ring,” Alex jokes. 

“I can’t think of anything better,” Michael says honestly. 

Alex ducks his head and looks up at him through those long lashes of his. Michael tries to think of them as old men—or older men anyway. With lines on their faces and grey in their hair. It’s hard to picture. The best anyone can tell they age like normal people so far. Who knows about the future. But he’ll take that over the alternative of not getting to grow old with him at all.  Of Alex not coming back at all. Michael refuses to think about such a thing. 

“What did Max and Isobel think?” Alex asks as he moves towards his dresser. 

“That we’re rushing into this,” he says.

Alex hums but Michael can feel the tension coming off him. He reaches out and puts a hand on Alex’s shoulder. 

“They’re not wrong,” Alex says. 

“It’s also not their business,” Michael replies. Alex gives a tight smile, “what?” Michael asks. Alex shrugs him off and Michael gives his best puppy dog look, “tell me.” 

“Just not looking forward to another family hating me,” Alex says and goes for casual and fails spectacularly. 

“They don’t hate you,” Michael says, “come on Max could turn coal into a diamond he’s so tense and Isobel wants to be swept off her feet. They’re too normal to get this.” 

Alex holds his gaze for a moment but something in him seems to slightly relax and Michael presses on. 

“Besides, even if you’ve got two families that don’t like you, you’ve got me. That’s one family that thinks you’re—“ he makes finger guns, “pretty awesome.”

Alex’s face cracks into a grin and then falls apart into laughter that Michael has to join in with. He knows there’s very little stupid shit he won’t do to make Alex laugh. Finger guns are just a part of it. That tension is still there, but Michael’s used to that. It’s the same tension he had when he moved out of his last foster dad and into his car. The difference is that now when he feels it, Alex slots their fingers together and rests their foreheads together and Michael remembers what whole feels like.

“I wish we could just stay like this,” Alex says into the air between them.

  
“Me too,” Michael replies, “but it’s not forever,” Alex presses into his forehead, “we’re gonna be old men with your nose ring yelling at kids to get off our lawn.”

Alex’s brow furrows like he can commit the image to memory and Michael tries to push whatever alien energy he can towards him, like he can cement the picture in his mind. If that’s the only thing he can cling to then fuck it, he’s clinging with all the metaphysical shit he can do. 

“You still wanna marry me?” He asks Alex who nods. 

“Always.” 


End file.
